


You Gotta Die Sometime

by Florian_Gray, SeeWithMyOwnEyes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Child Loss, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Dies, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Needs A Hug, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human) is Terrible, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florian_Gray/pseuds/Florian_Gray, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWithMyOwnEyes/pseuds/SeeWithMyOwnEyes
Summary: Androids aren't meant to live forever, but the prototypes have slightly less time. Markus is unique in that, since he wasn't made for the public. Connor, however, has always been running on borrowed time, even if he hadn’t known it until now. CyberLife had only made him to last so long, and his time is running out.Idea and artwork by the brilliant Florian_Gray on tumblr atConnorAndersons-Blog
Relationships: Connor/Elijah Kamski, Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo, Original Chloe | RT600 & Elijah Kamski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41
Collections: Android Whump Reverse Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re home early…” Chloe noted aloud, rising from her seat as Connor walked through the door. 

“So it would seem… Markus called for me, apparently. Fowler said Jericho needed me for an issue of urgent importance, but… When I left the DPD, Markus messaged me that he’d like to meet me here instead… In private, too… I believe Lijah thinks Markus intends to preposition me for intimate relations… I told him not to worry; he knows well as I do that I’m not equipped for such activity, and Markus has repeatedly stated that he’d prefer to refrain from romantic relationships until more progress is made on the Android Rights front. Even out of the public eye, we’ve talked about it as friends, and he’s been very clear that he doesn’t think he can give ample time to a romantic partner and to his work, and that to try to balance both at once would be unfair to either...“

“So then why does Elijah think Mr. Manfred is coming to seduce you…?”

“I… don’t know… He never stated that explicitly, but he just sounded angry, possessive even in a way unlike his typical demeanor. I attributed it to jealousy, though I don’t have any specific reason to assume that is the root of his distaste for our meeting… He started to forbid me from meeting with Markus altogether, but I managed to get him to walk back a bit on the subject. I simply stated that I am a responsible and faithful partner, and would never break his trust by engaging in relations with another, and that as I’ve proven myself to be nothing but faithful, I’m owed his faith in return. He seemed to agree with that, if not reluctantly, and I haven’t heard from him since… But you know Lijah. He’ll get over it. Besides. Since we got together, he’s made it very clear that I am my own person. I’m allowed to have my own boundaries, and I’m allowed to assert my rights as an individual, am I not…?”

“Of course you are… Still… You’re right.. That is unlike Elijah… How strange…”

Connor found his way to the pool. He didn’t plan on getting in. Not before Markus got here, and certainly not in his uniform… But he liked the taste of the wine… It was so wonderfully bizarre… Swimming pools weren’t usually filled with wine, but Kamski the texture. He always said the color made it feel more alive, plus it was kind of fun to step out slightly sticky from the sugar as the alcohol evaporated away. Dipping a finger into the liquid, he touched a drop to his tongue, and smiled. It was so stupid. The chlorine made it undrinkable, so it wasn’t like Elijah could enjoy it anyway… But that was all the more reason why Connor liked to taste it. It was sweet and salty, chemical and organic, all at once, a beautiful set of contradictions and irrationalities that so well encompassed everything Connor loved about humanity. 

“Connor!” 

“Elijah! You shouldn’t be here! Connor has informed me that you were told to stay away.” Chloe shook her head reproachfully. 

“Connor can inform you whatever he wishes. That is his right. But it is also my right to come home when I please… And it is my right to speak to my partner before Markus comes in and--“

Connor looked up from the pool, his face unreadable as he resolved to interject. 

“You should trust me. I know you know that, Elijah…”

“It’s not about trust, Connor! I know you and Markus would never do that… You forget, even before you’ve been my boyfriend, he’s been my godson… I trust you both completely, at least with regard to your intentions… But intentions have little impact on the consequences of one’s actions, my dear. Moreover, the matter on which Markus wishes to speak is as much my business as it is his… He’s coming to you, I assume, to discuss a breach in CyberLife security. I haven’t told you but we were hacked by Jericho earlier this week… And I’m sure that’s what he wishes to speak with you about…”

Elijah seemed… uncharacteristically affected… He’d been sleeping less, and eating less too, going to bed far later than Connor had been entering sleep mode, although, in fairness, Connor had been turning in earlier as of late… Still, his haggard appearance made his face seem more expressive… More concerned, to be specific. Rising from the poolside, Connor stepped closer to Elijah, placing a gentle hand against his cheek.

“You’ve been working yourself half to death… You’re clearly in need of some rest… Why don’t you take a short nap for a while… Once Markus leaves, I’ll join you. I’m sure you’ll feel better for it after…”

“Connor…” Chloe’s led cycled yellow as she spoke his name. “I think Elijah might be right… I’m unsure of the best arrangement, but I do think that there is a significant possibility that things will go more smoothly if he joins your meeting, regardless of whatever arrangement Markus might prefer…”

“Is it because it has to do with CyberLife…? Chloe, whatever this is, I’m sure there’s no need for antagonism on either side, and if it’s true that Jericho did, in fact, hack CyberLife, I think it’s obvious that conflict will be unavoidable if Elijah and Markus are both there to discuss it…”

Chloe’s led blipped red. Only for just a moment, too quick for a human to notice, but Connor’s keen senses had caught it, if only barely… Wistfully, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. 

“I’m afraid conflict will be inevitable. But having Eljah here to explain himself will be better for all parties involved…”

“He’s found something bad… Lijah, what has Markus found…?”

Elijah opened his mouth to speak, but found the words wouldn’t come to him. He swallowed heavily, knowing he owed Connor an explanation of some sort, but the words were just so hard to come by.

“What did you think of the Kamski Test…? Of Chloe then…?”

“You mean, how I shot her…? Is that what this is about…? Lijah, you should’ve just told me. That’s an easy fix! I can just testify on your behalf… I know you meant no harm, and there were no true consequences-- Chloe was fine, and it helped me to deviate, so really, I--“

“No, Connor… Look, it’s… not like that in that regard… I’m not one with words… I’m one with things… Giving life to things is easier than giving life to words… But I am good with things! I just need time. Things take time, life takes time. Words take orators though… And Markus is that… So maybe he should be here… He and I… Sit down, love… ”

Elijah passed Connor to pull up a chair by the poolside, and Connor knew he was expected to follow. Sitting himself down, he waited for Elijah to join him, but Elijah stayed upright for a moment, somewhat unsure of himself, before sitting down beside Connor. 

“Chloe… I think it’s best you greet Markus first…?”

“Agreed…”

To Connor’s surprise, Chloe didn’t stop to stand by the doorway, instead opting to exit the house, closing the door behind her… Was she going to meet Markus at Jericho…? Honestly, everyone was acting strange today… He wasn’t fond of it… Mindlessly, his hand found its way to his front pocket, fishing around for his coin. He pushed it up onto the back of his index finger with his thumb, rolling his wrist to make it dance across his knuckles and back again, before palming the coin, and examining his wrist. That was almost an entire second too slow… He could almost hear Amanda scolding him for letting deviancy dull his reflexes, but he wasn’t afraid. Elijah had checked to make sure the back door had worked, and confirmed that she was gone. But more than that, he’d promised that whatever happened, he’d protect Connor. From Amanda, and from any other potential threats to his well-being… Oddly enough, it was the promise and not the empirical evidence that had made him feel safe…

“I trust you, but do you trust me, my pet…?”

Connor blinked back at Elijah, trying to identify whatever more there was to the question. 

“Of course I trust you… Lijah, I don’t know how I could show you any more clearly that I trust you with my entire being… I know you…”

“Will you remember that…? The Connor Test… You’re more complicated than anything I could have ever hoped for. Fitting… My test for you was binary… Yes or no… But your life, your test… I cannot foresee a complete set of answers… Who will you be…? And what will you want with me…?”

“If you’re trying to initiate pillow talk, I would recommend we wait for Markus to leave before we stroke your ego… or your anything else, for that matter…”

“ _ We _ …? I stroke nothing, Connor… That, I know, you won’t forget…”

Connor smirked… That was more like it… He liked the banter… And normally, he enjoyed the silence here too… But this silence had felt somehow heavy, so he was glad it had been broken. 

“...then how can you be so… Ugh!” 

Connor could hear Markus entering the room, clearly highly aggravated with Chloe, but any trace of annoyance had left his face by the time he’d come into Connor’s line of view. A deliberately neutral, almost machine-like expression on his face, he moved slowly, taking a seat at the table, his gaze on Elijah moreso than on Connor. 

“Kamski…”

“Markus…” 

Connor noticed Elijah alter his posture, leaning back in his chair, increasing the distance between his legs, with his head tilted up… Openness. An act of submission. But if Jericho had stolen from Cyberlife, had stolen from  _ him _ , why wasn’t he the one on the attack…?

“Connor, I thought you said we would be meeting alone…” Despite his expression, there was no bitterness in Markus’ tone. 

“I know. I apologize. But I cannot forbid Elijah from being here. It is his house too, even if I live here with him…”

“Markus, speak freely, as if I’m not in the room. I know what you’re here about, and I do not oppose you.”

Markus shook his head, his suspicion in no way mitigated by Elijah’s profession of good will, but realized he had no choice but to continue with him here. 

“Connor, during a routine search of the CyberLife operational database, the investigative wing of New Jericho has come upon a concerning piece of information, and after some deliberation, we feel you have the right to know… Whatever you choose to do with this information is entirely up to you, but it would be wrong to deny you the opportunity to choose for yourself by withholding the information altogether…”

Markus held out a skinless hand and Connor couldn’t help but stare for a moment in surprise. Markus hadn’t even bothered to start off with meaningless pleasantries, or anything of that nature. Whatever this was, it was strange for Markus to be so to-the-point about it… Everyone was acting so strange… Still, never one to refuse more information, Connor took Markus’ wrist and accepted the interface… 

At first look, it was nothing new… Well, actually, technically speaking it really  _ was _ nothing new. It appeared to be some sort of schematics for his model. Like a first draft of the overall concept for the RK800… Except, aside from a diagram of a skinless android, and his old familiar CyberLife Jacket, there wasn’t anything fancy or technical about it. Come to think of it, this was less like a blueprint and more like a CyberLife executive’s margin notes while the idea of his creation was being pitched around a room. Stuff about Amanda and Zen Garden design… About how there would be 60 RK800s in total before the RK900 came out, but as they wouldn’t be commercial models, they’d need to be cheap to make… There was a doodle of a bunch of wonky giraffes wearing Connor’s CyberLife Jacket titled “Darwinian Learning Algorithm”, followed by a crude table of numbers… The first column was just a series of consecutive integers from 1 to 60. The second column was a series of dates. 11/3/37, 11/29/37, 12/2/37… Dull… The numbers in that column kept climbing, leading up to 11/??/39… So two years of… numbers…  _ Fun _ … But at the bottom, just below row 60, there was a little asterisk. 

_ **Note, dates not fixed, subject to change with occupational deactivations, compromisation, and success upon release of the RK900 _

Deactivations…? So these numbers were…? He couldn’t keep himself from glimpsing back at row 52… 3/18//39… That… that was just under three weeks from today… And that was under the best of circumstances…? 

“Connor…? You okay, there…?”

He wasn’t sure… He had thought he was okay… But now apparently he only had three weeks to live…? 

“I appreciate that this information is a lot to process, but can you at least tell me if you’re alright…? I wanted to speak with you to find a solution…”

“I’m going to die… March 18th... I… I won’t even get to see spring… I-I’ve never seen springtime… ” 

He wasn’t sure why that mattered now, but somehow it did… Spring was the season of new life… It… felt wrong that he’d never be alive to see it… All he’d ever truly felt was the cold of winter… Unpleasant and bitter like the Zen Garden just before he’d deviated… He’d never get to know anything else… 

“Connor, I’ve been doing everything I can to try to prevent--“

“You’ve known this whole time, haven’t you, Elijah…? These… these documents… they’re from before I was made… You… let them make me just for me to die…” Connor whispered in disbelief. 

“I didn’t sign off on that. I was ousted from CyberLife before your model was fully designed… Over Amanda, actually… I opposed her use as a counter-deviancy measure… Amanda Stern, the real Amanda was like a mentor, a role model of sorts… I wanted her to be a guide for you, a maternal figure to help you navigate the line between humanity and android-kind… But yes, I did know… I have been observing the proceedings of CyberLife from the sidelines, and I saw… Look, programmed obsolescence is a dick move, even for cost-efficiency in prototypes… True brilliance is seeing what one can do, not how one can profit from it. I wouldn’t have made you like this, Connor, trust me, you know I wouldn’t have…”

Elijah looked sincere but… There were still so many questions, and he didn’t even know how to ask--

“It’s not prototypes… It’s just Connor… We checked… There are no dates at all on my file, and for other prototypes, while there are dates for when their models will no longer be produced for sale, there are no dates regarding their mortality listed anywhere on the database…” Markus added.

“I assume that’s because the RK800 wasn’t even meant to be sold. The model was unsellable. Too untested for the military, too dangerous for civilian use, Connor only wound up at the DPD, because I pulled some strings to get him out of the CyberLife testing facility after the 50th model had been deactivated. I promised my brother would keep an eye on him, and that police work is similar enough to military work that it could be a good training experience… They were going to hard on the other models, and I thought it was Connor’s best chance. Even if Gav’s a dick, he’s not half as bad as his “handlers” back at corporate… As for sellable prototypes, I assumed they figured it’d be worth investing in their quality, because if they were good at what they did, humans would want more androids, and be more likely to buy the succeeding models as an upgrade for a show of status… Then, of course, you were a gift. Hand crafted by me, personally...”

“Do not talk about our people like we are products to be bought and sold for our utility!” Markus snapped. “Even if what you’re saying is true, surely there must be some way you can fix Connor. Even if you have to upload his consciousness to the cloud, and recreate a new body from scratch… You know how to make every part of him. Why haven’t you done anything about this!” 

“It’s not so simple. Most people seem to think that androids consciousness is effectively a computer program, a digital file that can be transferred like any other EXE… But it’s not… The way I build Androids, the reason you all can so easily pass the Kamski Test, is because your self-healing programs enable your processors to act similarly to human neurons. Sure, you have central processors with information, basic ones and zeros that state your name and purpose, but your core processor, your brain, is different… Memories, emotions, everything that makes a human themself, is created when the human brain constantly rearranges itself… Neural synapses change, strengthening, weakening, growing anew in some places and disappearing completely in others… Even if I were to copy every individual atom that makes up who I am in an attempt to create a copy of myself, that copy wouldn’t be me… It wouldn’t be able to think or feel like me… It would need to rebuild its own memories, its own personality, and at that point, it becomes a different person entirely. Now, replace “neuron” and “synapse” with “wire” and “circuit”, and that’s how things work inside your head… But Connor’s wires are made of the same cheap decaying crap as his body, as is his core processor. It would all need to be replaced, at which point, whatever I would build from there would be someone completely new…”

Markus shook his head. 

“But there have been 52 Connors, and they’ve all learned from each other! He has all their memories! Just put his memories in a new body again like you did with all those other Connors…”

“Connor doesn’t have their memories; he has their information… Darwinian Learning Algorithm… The experiences of those other Connors are just data in our Connor. A string of if-then-else commands based on which actions led to which outcomes. “Like, because Connor-51 died in the hostage negotiation with that PL600 at the Phillips’ residence, our Connor now likely has code stored somewhere like ‘If negotiating with deviant, then earn deviant’s trust, else be prepared to sacrifice self such that human hostages are safe’... But he can’t tell you what it felt like to fall off that rooftop… Just that he now knows what to do in that situation to better accomplish the task…”

Markus turned to Connor, inquisitively, but Connor honestly hadn’t been paying enough attention to even know what he’d been expected to respond to. 

“...is it going to hurt…?” His voice was meek, deliberately quiet to try and mask some of the fear. 

Elijah winced at the look in Connor’s eyes, feeling Markus staring daggers through him as he shook his head. 

“I… I don’t know, Connor… I assume it’ll be similar to the human aging process, but more rapid… Still, in saying that, I’m really only just guessing…”

“...right, then… I… thank you for bringing this to my attention, Markus…. I… think I’d like to be alone now…”

“Of course… Connor, I… I’m here for you if you need anything…” 

Markus started for the door, but Connor stood and took his hand. 

“I said  _ I _ need to be alone… You’re your own person, and you can do as you like… I’m leaving… Elijah, I’m not angry with you… I just… Like I said, I need to be  _ alone _ , and I can’t be alone if I’m with you…”

Elijah nodded. 

“Connor… I promise, I have been--I won’t stop trying to find a way around this… If I can create life, surely I can preserve it… I’ll find a way, I just… need to find it…”

Connor didn’t reply. With slow mechanical steps, he walked towards the exit, getting just far enough off the property line so not to be picked up by Elijah’s security scanners, before stopping in his tracks. Where would he go now… He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t angry with Elijah. He really did just want to be alone… Knowing now that that’s what he’d been up so late working on… That that’s also probably why Connor had been going to sleep so early too… His body needed more rest to repair the daily wear and tear, until finally he’d be worn down completely… He couldn’t bear to stay back knowing that… 

He could go to Hank, but then he’d need to explain himself, even if Hank wouldn’t ask him or an explanation with words… Hank knew when not to press the subject, but he also knew how to get Connor to speak. And if he did speak, what would he say…? Hank called him “son”… Like, a lot… And even though the legality of it was still kind of sketchy, it was basically assumed by everyone he knew that Hank had unofficially adopted him; he even went by Detective Anderson at work… If he’d ever meant that much to Hank, then… by telling Hank he was dying after having let him get close, wouldn’t Connor just be subjecting him to the same loss again… When Connor first met Hank, he was a wreck… It had been almost three years since Cole had died, and Hank was drinking his way to oblivion, pushing away anyone who might have cared to support him as he dug himself further into despair… Connor was the only person who wouldn’t-- who couldn’t be pushed away… He had to complete his mission, and he had to complete it with Hank, so he stuck around, and he wound up helping Hank start to heal… What would happen to him if he lost Connor now too…?

Statistically, two answers stood out as the most probable… And Connor hated them both. The memory of Hank’s gun, a single bullet waiting in the chamber as he passed out just before he could pull the trigger, and… He was still a machine back then, but even so, he’d felt something… bad… Like a knot in his chest, something tight and wrong, at the thought that Hank had almost--that he had wanted to-- And if he found out about Connor, might he want to again…? Alternatively, he might not care at all. Connor would come home, and find out that Hank didn’t see him as family, or even as a friend… He didn’t want to die knowing Hank wouldn’t miss him… Which he knew was irrational, but it still weighed on his mind as he realized he couldn’t crash on Hank’s couch until he sorted out his feelings… And he wouldn’t be able to get the privacy he needed at New Jericho… Markus and North might pity him, Josh might ask questions about how he felt, when he didn’t care to think about his feelings, and the other deviants might smile at the thought that the loathsome hunter was now succumbing to decay, a fate long predestined by the human masters he’d mindlessly obeyed.

So there were three places he couldn’t live, but he still needed a safe place to enter sleep mode… On one of his first cases, hunting that AX400 and the little girl she’d taken from an abusive home, he’d found them in a boarded-up apartment with a severely damaged WR600… He was pretty sure that they’d all crossed the border to Canada together just before the revolution, which meant that the house was probably empty… It didn’t take long for him to hop on a bus to Camden and find that, as he’d figured, he’d had the place to himself… He’d forgotten how awful it was… Old fashioned wall-paper, an ornate print that looked centuries old, now yellowed by the passage of time, moldy wooden floorboards, and an assortment of… things… Connor wasn’t even sure how they all went together… A chair for toddlers, a taxidermied deer head, a pinball machine, a cup full of rot, and some torn magazines that, upon a quick scan appeared to be soaked in animal urine… “RA9” had been carved into every surface, and old graffiti had crusted over throughout the building. Bits of the walls chipped away along with the mess of paint, and the floor had dipped, caving in in some places, as water leaked from somewhere Connor couldn’t quite source… Still, it was shelter. 

Connor was tired… And... afraid that he was tired… He’d had a long day at work, sure, and he’d just received such heavy news, so maybe it was emotional exhaustion-- He knew that was a thing. How stress could make a person feel tired even when they didn’t need sleep-- ...but he had a feeling that wasn’t it… He couldn’t shake the thought that his body was just tired… His body was failing on him, and there was nothing he could do about it… He felt restless, like he  _ needed _ to do something. He hated feeling out of control, especially of his own functionality… Out of anxious habit, he took his coin again, and ran it across his fingers, running a timer in his head, as it danced atop his hand. 1.34 seconds too slow… Shit. He was already getting worse… Maybe he was just too nervous… Maybe his nerves were making his hands shake… Too many maybes about his condition. He didn’t even know when or how anything was going to happen… Everything was maybes! But one thing he was sure of--lamenting his helplessness was pointless…


	2. TinCan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has an incident at work.

Connor had managed to go a week pretending like things were normal at work without much effort. He was a bit more cautious, now that he was aware exactly how fragile he was, but it didn’t really get in the way of his work, and no one else had seemed to notice… In all honesty, the case he’d been working on with Hank had been pretty engaging, so at work, it had been easier for him to ignore the invisible shutdown timer written under his frame… At the WR600’s house… not so much… Nights were brutal… Old decaying house, old decaying android, no hope for either in sight… And he hadn’t even heard from Elijah in all that time… He knew Elijah well enough to know that no word meant no progress… So at night, the thought of death consumed him. Hyperaware of his every sense, he couldn’t help but wince each time his joints creaked a bit too loud, each time the cold wind made him shiver involuntarily, each time he felt any sort of ache or pain shoot through his limbs… He hated living like this, but dying like this would be so much worse… 

After a torturous weekend, left alone with his fear, Connor couldn’t wait to get back to work again if only just to have something else to think about for a bit… Even before the doors to the precinct were open, Connor was sitting outside, waiting for Fowler to let him in… The minute the doors were unlocked, he was on his way inside, flicking the coin from one hand to the other, watching carefully to measure every wobble in its path, every micrometer it strayed from the path it was supposed to take, the path he’d been able to cleanly sling it across countless times before he’d started to fall apart. 0.49 seconds slower each way with three major diversions from the path, and 14 wobbles before it landed on average 23.2 micrometers off center between his index finger and his thumb…

“Hank won’t be here for another hour or so…” 

Connor blinked back at Fowler, curious as to why it mattered.

“You usually follow him around, so I just thought… Nevermind… If you wanna get a head start on the paperwork before he gets here, I’m not one to complain…” A brief hesitation before he added. “...you okay…?”

Connor shrank into himself… Was it that obvious that his condition was deteriorating…? Had Fowler begun to suspect that--

“You’re bleeding…”

Fowler explained, tapping his temple as if to call Connor’s attention to his own. 

“...Y-yes… I am… Alright, I mean… And bleeding too, I suppose. I’m sorry… I hadn’t noticed myself in the mirror… I’ll take care of that straight away, Captain…”

With trembling hands, Connor pocketed his coin, and headed for Hank’s desk, where he knew he kept a first aid kit… The clasp was surprisingly tricky to open, and by the time he managed to pry it apart, the contents had all fallen out, scattering across the floor. On his hands and knees, he collected each bandage, unwrapping one to place on his hateful temple… That wound, the thirium… He knew it shouldn’t have been there… Not anymore, anyway… He’d pried off his LED on Friday afternoon, once he’d gotten home after Hank asked him why it had been cycling red so much lately… The fact that there was still visible thirium meant that his self healing program was… bad… Everything was bad… He wanted to cry at the thought, but he was at work now… Crying was for home, if the WR600’s apartment could even be called that… So once the bandaid was placed over the stupid gash on his head, he tried to occupy himself with his work… 

A series of dead MC500s, all run over by the ambulances on which they worked. One EMT getting run over by an ambulance was a workplace accident. 8 EMTs of the same model, getting run over by ambulances in the same district, all within a three month period was a reason for suspicion. The question, as it stood was a motive, but Connor had a feeling it had to do with the dissolution of the Paramedic Union shortly, which roughly coincided with the first murder. If the Union was involved, it was only natural to suspect the Union leader. Which meant to look to them first, in terms of a potential motive… So now it was a matter of doing just that… Reading up everything he could on this person… A ton of information to go through, especially considering the sub-optimal speed of his processors. Just downloading all the files took 46 minutes and 7 seconds, and that was before he’d even unzipped them to read…

Running a hand through his hair, Connor sighed and began to open the files… 

_ IAEP Union Leader Amelia Donnovan blah blah blah… Android Revolution blah blah… 2038, the Union had been disbanded blah… speculation that free Androids are to blame for… blah blah… Vandalism in retribution-- _

“Morning, Connor… I heard from Fowler you came in at the ass crack of dawn, with a gash in your head…? You okay, son…?”

“H-hank! You… You started me… I was just reading up on the case, and--“

“Fuck the case, Connor! What’s up with the bandaid on your light show-thingy…?”

Connor kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he were continuing to glance at the file in his head, unable to look at Hank for fear of what he might accidentally give away upon seeing the concern he knew must have been clear on his face.

“I removed my LED… Last night…” 

At least the first bit hadn’t been a lie…

“Connor… What made you do that…? I mean, you have every right to, and I’ve been surprised you haven’t gotten around to it a while ago, but why last night, specifically…”

Connor could feel his servos tense as Hank’s words cut right to the core of his being… Which, come to think of it, probably wouldn’t be hard to do in his current condition, but he couldn’t tell  _ Hank _ that. 

“I… just thought it was long overdue… I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you before I--“

“You didn’t need to tell me, Connor! I was just worried for you! I care about you, dumbass!”

Letting his eyes close, Connor sighed. He hadn’t even told Hank, and Hank was already concerned.

“You… really care about me…?” He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words just slipped from his mouth. 

“Of course I care about you! Connor, I know we got off to a rocky start before you deviated, but after everything we’ve been through together since then, why would you even question that shit…?”

“...I… think I could use a thirium break…”

With that, Connor rose from his seat and rushed to the break room, aware that Hank would find such a response odd for several reasons, the least of which being that Hank he never went to the break room to get thirium. He always kept a spare pouch or two stored in his desk so that he could drink while working if he needed to maximize his productivity. But Connor didn’t care that it was clear he’d been lying… He just needed to get away before he said anything he’d later regret. He’d just keep his head down, get some thirium and bring it back. If he took slow sips at opportune times, he could plan for his mouth to be full whenever Hank asked him a difficult question, thereby rendering him noticeably incapable of answering. The beauty of work was being too busy to think about his problems, but now if Hank kept asking Connor about his problems at work, it’d be impossible to avoid them here either…

“So it’s true… You’ve finally ditched that stupid ring…”

As if things couldn’t get any worse… Why did he have to run into Gavin now of all times!

“...I just want some thirium, Detective…”

He was sitting with Tina, and it was clear they were both intrigued by the change in his appearance. 

“I know what this is about T… Eli gave me a call last week…”

Connor tensed. Elijah had told  _ Gavin _ !?! That was a complete invasion of privacy! He hadn’t wanted anyone else to know least of all--

“Yeppp… Apparently some tragic lovers’ quarrel… Awww, did my douche-y half bro break little Connor’s heart…? Didn’t want to wear a red ring of unrequited love upside your head…? He told me to look after you, if it’s any consolation… He cares about you, at least, which is certainly more than I can say…”

Okay… So Gavin didn’t know… That was okay… He could live with that… Or, die with that, more accurately...

“If you know he’s going through a rough break up, then lay off him, Gav! It’s not like your sexual history’s been any better… Sorry to hear that, Con. You can talk to me about it any time this prick’s not around, you know that, right…?” Tina offered. 

“...thank you… I just… wanted some thirium, so, if I could just… get some, please…?”

He moved to grab a cup for the thirium dispenser, but Gavin stepped in front of him, blocking his path. 

“My taste in men is my business… But seriously… If you and I hate each other, the fuck did you think would come from screwing around with my brother…? I thought you were programmed to be smarter than that, Tin Can...”

Tin can… Three weeks ago, Gavin had sent a video file to the DPD groupchat… A can of ravioli in the path of a slow-moving stream of lava while a child’s recorder played in the background. The tin can just sat there, because of course it did-- it was a fucking tin can, it wasn’t like it could get up and walk away--, and the lava slowly inched closer, a thick black and red glowing sludge, as deadly and inevitable as the passage of time itself. 

“Gavin, quit it! Seriously, look at him… I think he’s actually upset this time…”

The stupid recorder music played on, and the can expanded, the heat evaporating the pasta sauce inside until the deformed mass of metal exploded, shooting the lid clean off… Not long after that, the inner lining caught fire, and the whole thing was in flames, charred black, and warped into a distorted broken amorphous thing, nothing like the perfect cylinder in which it had started out. Lava like time, had taken something useful, something good, and slowly broke it down beyond recognition. 

“What? If anything, I’m the one who should be upset here! Do you know how embarrassing it is to know my brother’s sleeping around with a tin can plastic prick!”

Tin can… No… No, he wasn’t… He didn’t want to be a tin can! Gavin’s words, his names, it was like a condemnation, sealing his fate, binding his arms and legs so he was entirely helpless to fight off the lava as it inched closer towards his artificial skin, and he needed to move! He had to move! He had to do something because he didn’t want to be helpless like this, and--

He really hadn’t meant to take a running swing at Gavin, but his body wasn’t his own anymore, and he couldn't stop himself anymore than he could stop the tears from forming as his fist connected with Gavin’s jaw and knocked him flat on his ass. It hurt. His knuckles… They… felt like he’d punched something hard… Staring at his own fist in shock, his thirium froze at the horrified realization that it really hurt… His fist was bruised, some of the artificial skin already worn away from the contact, even though he’d easily decked Gavin before without compromising his own corporeal integrity. 

“What the actual  _ phck _ , you dick!?!? You hit me!!”

Gavin was… yelling at him…? Which meant he was conscious… And able to speak… The punch hadn’t even injured his jaw, or knocked him out…? Breathing hard, Connor cradled his injured hand to his chest, staring on as Tina helped Gavin to his feet, telling him he got what he deserved, or whatever shit she was saying that he couldn’t process because Gavin was relatively uninjured, and his fist  _ hurt _ . He was frozen like a deer in headlights until somehow, his legs took control again, and he found himself fleeing to the restroom. He could feel his stress level rising as he locked himself into a stall, and climbing onto the toilet seat so no one would see his legs through the gap, before allowing himself to collapse into a huddled mass. Everything was falling apart… And Elijah had lied. It did hurt… His fist throbbed with each beat of his thirium pump, and it felt like a vise had clamped around his chest, crushing his frame, and pressing into his ventilation system so that he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t think and everything was too loud, and if he was going to die, couldn’t he just get it over with, so he wouldn’t have to be so fucking afraid, and--

“Connor…? You in here…?”

Brilliant! Abso-fucking-lately brilliant! Just what he needed! Hank barging in and suffocating him with more questions, reading through his frame to see every broken thing about him! 


	3. Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank insists Connor get his hand fixed.

“Connor…? Connor! C’mon… Tina said she saw you run off in this direction… Look, I’m not mad at you, son… You did nothing wrong in my book… But you can’t spend the day hiding out in the bathroom… Y’know humans shit in here, right…? Not a fun place to take a siesta…”

Connor could tell Hank was trying to minimize the sound of his footsteps, but he could hear Hank coming closer all the same, pushing a little on each bathroom stall, presumably to see which one he was hiding in. 

“This is the only locked stall in the room… I’m assuming you’re in here, Connor, but if it’s not Connor in here, please, whoever’s in here, tell me now, before I unlock the door, because I really don’t care to see anyone’s dick right now…”

Connor could mimic anyone’s voice… But what would he say…? How did humans express that they didn’t want their coworkers breaking into the bathroom to look at their genitalia… That wasn’t something covered in his social protocols… Actually, in his social protocol, it explicitly stated not to discuss genitals in the workplace at all… Humans sometimes used euphemisms when they wanted to be more polite about their bodily functions…

“...My… hose is out for… draining… Don’t come in and look at my hose…? Please…?”

“Connor… This is the men’s room… Why would you pick Tina’s voice…? And literally no human, male, female, or otherwise asks other humans not to ‘look at their hose, please’... Look, if you’re fucked up about a breakup, that’s fine… That’s normal even… But instead of acting out, or pretending to be someone else taking a piss, why don’t we just talk…?”

“...is there a fourth option where we get back to work and pretend like none of this ever happened…?”

“Afraid not… Look, Tina told Fowler what happened, and he agrees that Reed had it coming, but he also has to suspend you for the day, because apparently officers aren’t supposed to hit each other, even if they deserve it… If things aren’t so great between you and Kamski, you can come home with me… Your room’s still set up, and I’m sure Sumo will be happy to have you back again…”

Connor couldn’t come home with Hank! But he also couldn’t admit to Hank that he was living in that abandoned apartment building… Plus, if he was suspended for the day, and he didn’t go with Hank, he’d have to go back to the apartment, and be alone with his thoughts again. He wasn’t sure he could handle another full day like that… He didn’t know what to do! Why couldn’t he just stay here until he died…? Even if he had to stay here on the toilet… Dying on the toilet wasn’t the worst way to go… Except, if he died here on the toilet, someone would have to dispose of his body… He wouldn’t want to burden anyone with that, especially not anyone he worked with… 

“Come on… I know you wanna give Sumo a good belly rub… Plus I’ve got a ton of bad movies for you to criticize, that I’ve been waiting to show you!”

That… did sound fun… And less painful than hanging out in the dark wondering what it felt like to die alone. Plus, then he would be able to see how Hank had been doing since he’d moved out. If Hank was doing okay on his own now, maybe that might be an indication that he’d be okay once Connor was gone… 

“I… Okay… But only to see what the house is like…”

“That’s an odd thing to say, but sure… Whatever gets us out of this literal shithole… You gonna unlock the stall, or do you really want me to kick it down…? Because I  _ can _ kick it down…”

Connor unlocked the stall and sheepishly stepped outside.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m--“

“Your hand is bleeding… Let me see it…”

“Hank, no! I--“

Fearing Hank might accidentally tear his arm off if he tried to pull away, all Connor could do was grimace as Hank took his hand to examine the damage. 

“You seem to have broken at least two fingers… Connor, why didn’t you say anything…?”

“I’m scared… my--my hand just… like a tin can, it just-- And it hurts… He… he said it wouldn’t hurt, but it did…”

“Who said…? Reed…? Was he egging you on…? Shit, Connor, the guy’s an ass; you shouldn’t trust anything he says… And yeah, it looks like it hurts… Your middle finger especially… I think you’re going to need to see a tech for that one… Otherwise, I hate to say it, but you might not be flipping anyone off for a long time, kiddo… Let’s stop by New Jericho before home… Didn’t Josh fix you up after that botched drugs bust at the pier…? I’m sure he can--“

“I-I don’t want to go to New Jericho!”

Connor couldn’t go to New Jericho! They would tell Hank, and he would feel their pity, and he just couldn’t deal with that!

“Connor, we’ve been over this… No one holds what you did as a machine against you… Your hand needs to be taken care of… That’s that…”

“What if it doesn’t…? What if I can just leave it like this, and it’s fine, and I’ll-- It really is fine, Hank…”

“I’ll be the judge of that! And I judge that if I can see cracks in your frame, we’re going to see a tech. So New Jericho it is… Let’s go… My car’s in the lot out back…”

Wordlessly, Connor followed Hank to his car, trying to think of a way to talk his way out of this...

“You up for some tunes…?”

Hank didn’t wait long for a response, before setting his phone on shuffle. Requiem for the Damned by Knights of the Black Death… Connor squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head against the cold window at his side. The music was so loud… Growly vocals and heavy drums, with a distorted electric guitar like gunfire… He was right when he’d said the music had energy… And with how weak he’d been feeling, he was almost afraid the energy from the sound alone, would be enough to break down his body completely. 

“C’mon, Con… Try to enjoy it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve had my fair share of bad break ups back in the day… Hell, I started listening to this death metal crap as a kid to break out of the fog of sadness that comes with shit like that…”

Death metal… Fitting… His injured hand still close to his chest, Connor slumped down in his seat. 

“...you’re doing better with the whole sadness depression thing, now, yeah…? ...still seeing that therapist I picked out for you…?”

“Yeah, why…? Want me to see if they can recommend anyone for you…?”

Connor hummed noncommittally, too tired to bother coming up with a lie instead.

“Will do… My next session’s on Wednesday; can you wait for me to ask then, or do you want me to text ‘em now…?”

“...can wait…”

He’d deal with that later… That was a problem for future-Connor… Not that Connor had much of a future left….

Thankfully, Hank seemed to take the hint that Connor didn’t feel much like talking, and even had the courtesy to turn down the music so Connor just let himself rest… They weren’t far from New Jericho anyway, so it wasn’t like he was greatly inconveniencing Hank with his silence. Plus it was good to have time to prepare himself for the reactions he’d get from everyone once he came in… He just hoped it wasn’t too busy there right now… 

“Hey Connor, you awake…?”

A gentle hand nudged his shoulder slightly. 

“New Jericho’s coming up on the left… Wake up, kiddo…”

“...I’m awake… just thinking…”

“Good thinking or bad thinking…?”

Connor wasn’t sure he was capable of good thinking anymore… Most of his thoughts were less than pleasant. Whether or not that was a result of his newfound awareness of his own mortality, or an effect of the deterioration of his central processors was anybody’s guess, but once again, that wasn’t a question for him to offer for Hank.

“...Thinking… not all thinking has to have a valence one way or the other…”

“Fair enough… Well, mind if I call in to let ‘em know we’re coming now…?”

“...Go for it…”

Markus, himself picked up on the first dial tone, and Connor couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt that he was occupying enough of the deviant leader’s thoughts that Markus cared to answer to Hank personally.

“Hello, Lieutenant Anderson. May I help you…?”

“No need for the formalities, Markus. It’s Hank… And, while yes, I am calling to request a favor, I know you must be incredibly busy, and I’m sure this is a matter that can be delegated to anyone with some level of technical expertise…”

“Technical expertise…? Are you calling for Connor…?”

“Yes, but there’s no need to sound so concerned… He just broke his hand in a bit of a confrontation at work… I’m not sure what androids do about that sort of thing, but I’m sure it’s not a big deal…“

Connor held his breath as he could hear Markus hesitate, processing the nature of Hank’s concern.

“Oh… Yes… Yes, I’m sure Josh can… fix Connor’s hand… Is that… Well, is that all you’re here for…?”

“Yeah. Sorry if it seems kind of rude to come by just to ask for something and leave, but maybe next time I can drop by with Sumo again… It’s just that right now, Connor needs help, and you know how he is about CyberLife techs for… reasons that I don’t think I need to go into…”

“...right… okay… Okay, no problem, Hank… I… completely understand that… We’ll take care of Connor’s hand right away…”

“Thank you… I really appreciate it…” 

Hank hung up the phone, and shrugged at Connor.

“Sounds like he’s got a lot on his mind… Whatever… I’m glad Josh will take a look at your hand… He’s a smart kid… Hey, maybe he’s single… Do you know if he swings that way, or…?”

Leave it to Hank to try and hook Connor up with Josh… Admittedly, if not for the shame of his past making him uncomfortable around other deviants, Josh was definitely his type… But it didn’t even matter because he wasn’t looking for a boyfriend; he already had one. Even if his boyfriend had been silently watching him die from the start… Dejected, he waited for Hank to park, so they could step inside. 

“Lieutenant Anderson, Connor… Welcome to New Jericho… I’m sorry to be meeting under these circumstances, but it’s good to see you again, nonetheless…”

Hank smirked. 

“I was just telling Markus, you can call me Hank… And no need to be so fatalistic; it’s good to see you too…”

Josh turned curiously to Connor, who shook his head.

“Hank’s right… There’s… no need to be so fatalistic…” Connor repeated pointedly. 

“Okay… Well… Let me show you to the repair wing so we can take a look at your hand…”

Hank held Connor back a bit, letting the gap between them and Josh grow slightly before whispering. 

“Make a move… Say he looks nice, or ask him about his day or something… You’re a catch, but you’re not doing yourself any favors by just repeating what I say… Loosen up a bit…”

“...yes, Hank…”

Connor didn’t care to correct Hank. He was too busy looking for other residents of New Jericho who might have possibly been looking at him… Markus must have made a point of requesting that the halls be cleared prior to Connor’s arrival, and for that, he was grateful. Schadenfreude, poetic justice, karma… A rose by any other name was something he really didn’t want to see in the eyes of other deviants. He hated it here… Was it awful that he just wanted to hurry it up so he could leave…? Even if they were doing him a favor by seeing to his hand, he couldn’t help but feel inconvenienced at having to spend one of his last days alive at a place where he felt so unwelcome. 

“Y’know, I’ve never thought of it before, but the repair wing here looks more like a pediatric office than a tech’s…” Hank mused aloud. 

“We’ve designed it that way deliberately, Lieutenant… You can imagine the less than pleasant associations many deviants might have with CyberLife facilities, so we figured it was best to create a more inviting atmosphere here to promote a sense of safety and security… My schedule says this room down the hall should be empty for the next few hours… That should be more than enough time to-- Markus…?”

Josh seemed as confused as Connor and Hank to find Markus waiting for them inside as he opened the door to this repair room. 

“Heya… Had some free time, so I figured I’d drop by to say hello…”

Markus smiled pleasantly, but Connor caught the subtle note of melancholy about him, all the same.

“Hello, Markus… Here to sign Connor’s cast, or something…?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Hank… before we treat his injuries, I think it’s best I assess them first… Connor, would you show me your hand…?”

The vulnerability of having to present an injured limb for inspection made Connor feel somewhat ill, but he offered Josh his hand nonetheless, trying not to think about what Josh could possibly be planning to do with it as he silently manipulated the digits. It hurt a little, but Connor didn’t protest, allowing Josh to do as he liked, until finally, he set Connor’s hand back down. 

“Given the current rate of your self-healing program, it’d probably be best to just replace your hand entirely; You’ll get the most use out of it that way… I appreciate that it might not matter much to you, but I just… It does make me smile to think how far we’ve come… Before the revolution, we were cannibalizing our own… Now we have enough resources to spare replacement parts for palliative--”

“Yes, our tech work is much more advanced than what you had at Jericho, but Simon, may he rest in peace, did the best he could with what he had, and I’m sure he’d be happy to see what we’re doing here!” Markus shot Josh a dirty look, hoping his diversion would be effective in changing the subject, since it was clear that Connor hadn’t wanted Hank to know yet…

“Ummm… Yeah… Sorry about your friend, but… I’m sorry, Josh, you were saying something…? Something about  _ palliative _ care…? You guys are androids… Why would you have to deal with palliative care…? Is there some sort of virus going around…?”

“No… And you’re right… Palliative cases are highly uncommon amongst androids given our advanced self-healing programs and our easily replaceable biocomponents, but there are some rare circumstances in which it does happen… Like Connor, for example, being a prototype of a model unmarketable to the average consumer…”

Markus audibly groaned, smacking his forehead with the butt of his hand, and Connor just wanted to disappear as Hank stepped closer to Josh, almost looming over him as if to intimidate away the bad news.

“Connor for example is what…? What the fuck are you trying to say here…?”

“Connor is… ummm… I… don’t know how to put this, Lieutenant… I’ve been informed that the wording in times like these is incredibly important, and I’m not always the most eloquent in delicate scenarios and--“

“He’s trying to say that I’m dying!”  Connor blurted out. 


	4. Palliative Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank finds out the truth about Connor.

“...I-I’m sorry Han--Lieutenant, but it’s true…”

“...Connor…”

Any strength Hank might have had to him had melted away, leaving him weak and broken as he turned to face his son. 

“...I’m sorry… I-I was afraid to tell you, because… you know… And I didn’t want you to be like that again because of me…”

Connor wasn’t sure what he expected to happen from there, but he certainly hadn’t expected to be pulled into a tight embrace. 

“...how long have you known…?”

“...about a week…”

“Connor, I-- I’m so sorry… You--you can always tell me anything, you know that…? I want to… to help you when… Shit, Connor, you shouldn’t have had to deal with this alone for so long…”

“...it’s fine… it’s going to happen; there’s nothing you can do…”

“Like hell there isn’t! How long do you have…?”

“...about two weeks… on the 18th, I… I don’t know how it’s going to happen… Lijah wouldn’t tell me… But I’m already getting slower… I can’t heal right, and I’ve had less energy, and my-- my coin--“

“Shhh… It’s okay, son… It’s okay… Look at me, Connor… We’ll sort this out before then, okay…? You’re going to be fine, so don’t be afraid…”

Connor suddenly stiffened, somehow affected by the word. 

“I’m not afraid…” 

His voice was mechanical, as if Amanda herself had pulled it from his throat, and Hank noticed it right away.

“Connor, you don’t have to pretend… It’s okay to be afraid…”

“But I’m not… Not for myself anyway… I’ve been afraid for what will happen to you when I’m gone… I’ll be dead, but you’ll still be here… You have to still be here…”

It was true. He would be dead, but he wanted Hank to keep on living… And in a strange way, he was relieved that, now that Josh had let slip the news of his impending demise, he could say it to Hank in person. 

“Shit, Connor! I-- No… Don’t you worry about me… I’ll… I mean, I wouldn’t be fine, but… thanks to you I’m stronger than before… Still, we won’t have to worry about-- Look, let’s… get your hand fixed up, and deal with this after, okay…?”

“Okay…”

Connor relaxed slightly, allowing Hank to take the time to compose himself before releasing his embrace. 

“Alright… Sorry about that, Josh-- Josh…? Hey, Connor, did you see either of them leave…?”

Connor turned around, scanning the room to find that neither Josh nor Markus were there…

“I… don’t know where they went… No, I didn’t see them leave… Should I send a message to Josh to see what happened…?”

“No… I would give ‘em time… They’ve probably got stuff going on, or maybe they’re looking for parts for your hand or… who knows…”

As if on cue, a quiet fist knocked against the doorway. 

“Hey guys… It’s Josh… Can I come back in now, or…? I’ve got your hand…”

“Sure… Uhhh… Thanks…”

Connor stepped forward to greet Josh, who stood there sheepishly, unsure of how to proceed. 

“I… um… think I missed the memo on… Well, I didn’t seem to get that he wasn’t supposed to know… I figured you’d told him, and… Markus said you’d need space, but I wasn’t sure, because I wanted to… I mean, I figured you’d want a new hand, and--“

“It’s fine, Josh… Yes, a new hand would be nice…”

“Very well, then… Deactivate your skin for me so I can see the junction point…?”

Connor did as he was told, and held his hand out to Josh, feeling somehow less exposed now that Hank understood why he couldn’t just heal on his own. Skillfully delicate fingers wrapped around the grey connective plating along his wrist, similarly to how one might check a human’s pulse, and then the throbbing stopped, replaced with a numbness, as slowly something shifted. Carefully, Josh slid the hand from the rest of Connor’s body, until it had come off entirely, exposing severed wires and thirium lines coiled tightly around artificial musculature leading up to the upper half of a small hinge. Under other circumstances, Connor might have stopped to appreciate the complex inner workings of the body he inhabited, but now he almost resented it, as if each individual subcomponent had personally wronged him. Built cheap, impermanent, he knew they were failing, so he couldn’t bring himself to sing any praises for the broken parts upon which he relied on as their sum. 

Looking up to see what Hank thought of the remarkably inferior mechanical feat that was his existence, he smiled warmly at the sight. Hank was looking away, a bit pale in the face, clearly uneasy at the sight of someone dismantling the damaged biocomponent. It was… endearing to see his father figure so visibly uncomfortable with the idea of his corporeal integrity being compromised like this, even though Connor had explained that biocomponent replacement, if done right, was entirely painless, no different from a human getting a haircut or changing their piercings. A series of clicks, and the new hand had already taken to the rest of his frame… Connor tested the limb, flexing his wrist, and opening and closing his fist, before frowning, a little more than slightly dissatisfied.

“It’s… slow… Something’s wrong with the response time… it… feels weird too… Josh, I think the hand’s wrong… The skin’s not coming back…” 

Josh stepped closer to examine the new hand, thumbing the edge of the artificial skin against his frame.

“No… It’s fine… Connor, your self healing program… It’s… going to be running a bit slow for… well, for from now on… The skin’s coming back, but… it’s going to be slow, and I’m not sure your new hand will ever completely integrate itself with your body before… I mean, I would just… try to be careful, and… be patient with yourself, okay…? The hand itself is fine, but… there’s other stuff going on now, and that’s going to complicate the healing process…”

Setting his hand down, Connor forced a neutral expression and nodded back. 

“Yes… Thank you…”

“Take care, Connor… Get some rest, and be well…”

“...you too…”

Before Hank could speak on the matter, Connor had left the room, and he was forced to follow without asking Josh any more about how to maintain his new hand or deal with this two week deadline. 

“Connor, are you okay…?”

Connor didn’t turn back to look at Hank. 

“In terms of…?”

“Emotionally… I’m sure there’s a lot going on in your mind, and you have every right to feel however--“

“I feel nothing of note. But please, refrain from asking how I feel…? I’ve come to discover that the question holds a power of sorts that I don’t quite understand… A person can be perfectly fine, but the moment they’re asked if they’re okay, they… fall apart… It’s disconcerting, the power of those two words, especially since I do believe it to be entirely counterproductive with respect to the intention behind them…”

He didn’t care that he sounded mechanical again. Facts were facts, and if he sounded cold for stating them, then so be it…

“Okay, son… Wanna take a cat-nap in the car…? I’ve got a little detour before we get home, so it’s gonna be a while before you can crash on the couch…”

Did he  _ want _ to take a nap? --No. Was he _going_ to? --Definitely. Strategically, it was the best way to avoid giving Hank reason for concern. He couldn’t show fear or weakness or pain in his sleep… 

“Josh did say he recommended I get some rest…”

“Okay. Well, I’ll drive extra smooth, and you can just… sleep I guess... I think I’ve got a blanket in the back if you want…”

“I’m fine… Thank you…”

Connor hopped into the passenger seat, forcing himself into sleep mode immediately upon buckling his seatbelt. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been asleep, but regardless, he found himself fairly confused to wake to find himself moving. Groggily, he opened his eyes to find he was home, sort of, anyway… 

“...Hank…?”

“Oh… Hey… You got a good rest, there, Connor…”

He didn’t know quite exactly what to ask first. Where had they been…? How had they gotten here…? Why was Hank carrying him into the house like a small child…?

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I figured I probably shouldn’t wake you…” Hank explained, as if reading his thoughts. 

Not a second after Hank placed him onto the couch did Connor find himself ambushed, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. 

“Sumo, down boy! I know you’re excited, but let ‘im rest for fuck’s sake! Look, I got you a burger… Lick that instead!”

Connor could hear the rustling of paper and aluminum foil as Hank unwrapped something and tossed it in Sumo’s direction. 

“...Chicken Feed...?”

“Yup… By the time I got back from that Kamski prick, it was about time for dinner, so…”

“...Kamski…?”

Connor sat himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he tried to better understand what had happened while he was out. 

“Uhhh… Yeah… That was the detour… I wanted to know more about what's going on with you, and then I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. Bastard actually had the nerve to look concerned. The guy looks like crap, and there was all sorts of tech shit scattered around, but I didn’t take any of his bullshit. I don’t care when he stepped down, or what he may or may not have had to do with this. I just told him, he better get his shit together and find a way to fix it, or it’ll be his ass! Then he… well, he said he misses you… And that he hopes you’re doing okay…”

Okay… So… no new news… Not really anyway… Still, it was nice to see Hank cared to talk to Elijah, and nicer still to hear Elijah was thinking of him… 

“I don’t believe it’s his fault… And I’m not mad at him…”

“Okay… Now, you have a question to answer: He says you moved out after Markus dropped the news last week, so where the fuck have you been living since then…?”

“I… Remember that case where we were chasing the AX400 woman and the child she’d rescued…? And we tracked her down to that abandoned building with the twitchy damaged WR600…? The one with the tarp like a cloak, and the burn marks all over who talked in the third person…?”

Hank thought for a moment 

“Yeah… Ralph, wasn’t it…? Oh, for fuck’s sake Connor, please tell me you haven’t spent the past week rooming with him in that shithole!”

“I  _ haven’t _ spent the past week rooming with him in that shithole. Ralph moved out just before the revolution. I’ve been living there on my own…”

“Jesus Christ, Connor! I get if you didn’t wanna live with Kamski, but you should’ve just talked to me! I’m happy to have you here for as long as you like!”

“I know… But you know I didn’t want you to know. And you have a way of making me tell you everything, and I just… I was afraid you’d get hurt… I don’t want to see you fall back on your progress because of me…”

Hank let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his tangled hair. 

“Connor, look at me… Progress isn’t so simple as forward or back, but I promise you… No matter what happens, I’ll find a way to keep living… I’ll always keep living because of you. You taught me how to live, Connor… But I’m not giving up on you, kiddo.”

His words lifted a weight from Connor’s shoulders. He could feel a tired smile forming across his lips, as he let himself relax more into the couch. 

“That’s good to hear… Really, that feels better to know…”

“So now that you’re finally here, I was thinking we let Sumo finish his burger and then check out the movie’s I’ve got saved on DVR. I can freeze some thirium for you to have in those little popsicle molds, or maybe run one through that old snow-cone maker I’ve still got in the basement… Hmm… I wanted to shit on the acting from 1408, but after everything today, I think we should give that one a pass… How about something Nicholas Cage…? Oh! The Wickerman, National Treasure, or Faceoff? You’ve gotta watch a Nicholas Cage movie--Those are a rite of passage, a cultural staple!”

“Which one’s your favorite…?”

“I’m partial to faceoff, but only because I saw it as a kid, and my mom was super horny for the other lead actor, so it was crazy to watch with her. He was like a sex symbol from her generation, but also a cultist, and maybe gay-- which, like, back then, was a lot less common, for gay celebrities to be out, so we’ll never know, but…”

Connor laughed. He always liked hearing Hank talk about his childhood. It was such a foreign world for him, a time before Androids, or really anything he knew about the world had come to exist, and the man wasn’t even really that old by human standards. And Hank always seemed so happy to reminisce. 

“Well, then… Faceoff it is…”


	5. Hanging On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor’s condition rapidly declines.

Living with Hank was much more pleasant than hiding away in Ralph’s apartment. Even without his LED, Hank was somehow able to know when Connor was thinking too hard on the invisible shutdown timer in his head, and was always quick to redirect his attention onto something more pleasant. He’d managed to get them both off work until… well, until the end… So now it was mostly chilling out on the couch, and occasionally doing fun things around town… Hank took him to an arcade, got him into magic tricks, took him minigolf-ing, and it was nice, if not for the fact that he was so keenly aware that they were only out having fun like this because his days were numbered. Really, it was like those sad stories he’d read of people who set a date for their dogs to be put down, and then chose to give their dog all the steaks and walkies and trips to the park in the world to feel a bit better with the knowledge that they’d slated their pet to die. 

And Hank had been fairly considerate about what Connor felt comfortable with, in terms of how he wanted these last few days to go… He was careful to throw away any letters of condolences or care packages that had been sent their way before Connor could see them, and he tried his best to keep his anger towards Elijah and CyberLife and really the world about Connor’s situation to himself. He pretended like everything was normal for the most part, and he tried not to ask Connor if he was okay, at least not with words… But there was still an unspoken tension, growing tighter, more difficult to ignore with each passing moment. The skin on his hand still hadn’t returned, at least not completely… A little bit more had grown to cover patches of the back of his hand, but not enough to look even remotely healthy… 

Taking his coin in his good hand, Connor tossed it up with his thumb, trying to will it down from his first finger to his pinky. It didn’t dance anymore. Not like it used to roll so easily. But right now, he just wanted to get the damn thing down… It stalled on his middle finger, leaning awkwardly on his index finger for support, even as he tried to flick his wrist a little to touch the coin down onto his ring finger. Except, his hand relaxed without his permission, and the coin fell to the floor, tinking a soft metal note as it hit the ground. A shooting pain ran up Connor’s arm, as it coiled unnaturally, the current distorted, no longer able to sustain such levels of fine-motor control. Cursing himself, he didn’t even wait until the pain had fully died down, before he picked up the coin and tried again. He just needed a time! Some way to gauge and quantify his condition! How many seconds longer would it take for him to move the stupid coin? Before he could even get the coin up from his thumb, his whole arm went numb, falling uselessly to his side. 

“Damn it!” 

He was too broken to even run the simple evaluation. 

“Damn it damn it damn it damn it!”

He couldn’t move his _good_ arm… He couldn’t do _anything_ anymore! And it _hurt_! The pain came in waves, and the magnitude varied, but every time he felt that first shiver overtake him, he found himself terrified, completely clueless as to whether or not he’d be beset with a brief spell of achiness, or hours of fire running through his thirium lines, sending him to his knees as each pulse of his thirium pump made him want to cry out in agony. He couldn’t even wipe away the tears that had begun to trickle down, dripping from the tip of his nose and onto his lap as he bowed his head in exhaustion, because his hands were fucking fried. 

“Hey… Easy, Con… What’s the matter…? What do you need…?”

He must have been too loud this time, because Hank clearly heard him, now there at his side. 

“M-my--my coin! I-I need my coin!”

He didn’t care how pitiful he sounded… He needed his coin!

“Okay… Well, that’s easy… I’ll get it for you right now…” 

Hank bent down to get Connor’s coin, and started to hold it out for Connor, before realizing that Connor was physically incapable of taking it for himself… 

“Connor, I… I don’t think now’s the time for coin tricks, son… Let me just put it in your pocket here for safe-keeping, okay…?”

“No! I-I--I need it now! I need a time! P-please, Hank, I--I just need a time!”

“What do you mean, you need a time…?”

“I-I can’t tell how gone I am-- how--how broken, unless I can time it! I was 10.29 seconds off from normal last I checked, b-but I can’t do it anymore! My--my hand won’t work! I need it to work!”

Hank shook his head sorrowfully, sitting himself down on the couch next to Connor. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, son…? Your coin will still be there when you wake up, and maybe you’ll be feeling well enough to play with it by then…”

“I don’t like resting… I see _her_ in my dreams… She tells me it’s my fault for being obsolete… And that it wouldn’t hurt so bad if I were a good machine and hadn’t chosen to feel… I-I don’t want to be a good machine, but I don’t like it to hurt… And the shivers, the cold--it’s just like the Garden before-- Only I can’t escape… There--there’s no backdoor this time…”

“Amanda… Connor, she’s not real… Not anymore. You got rid of her; you beat her… And you’re as good as they come… I’ve told you. Shit things happen to good people… I know you know that… What if we get you some extra blankets to keep you extra warm…? And I’m sure Sumo would be happy to help too…? You can call him over for some puppy cuddles…”

That sounded nice, in theory, but… he was still afraid… he still didn’t want to…

“...I also don’t like resting because it takes time… And I don’t have much left to give so freely… I don’t want to give it all away to sleep…”

It wasn’t until then that Connor had noticed the tears streaking Hank’s face.

“You’re talking like it’s over… There’s still time for that Kamski prick to find a way… So rest up so you don’t feel so shit when he finally calls us over to technomance you back to normal…”

“Right… okay… But could you bring more blankets…? I don’t want to freeze in the Garden…”

“Blankets, pillows, plushies… A fortress of nap-itude, coming your way… And hey, Sumo, attack!”

Connor smiled softly as Sumo lazily shook himself off, before plodding over towards him, and nearly knocking him down onto the couch. A weighted blanket of floof and love, the Saint Bernard quickly made himself comfortable on Connor’s chest, making Connor feel safe enough to enter sleep mode, just for a little while. When he awoke, well rested and buried under a mountain of pillows, he even felt a moment of comfort. At least until he realized he’d slept well into the afternoon of the next day… Which meant he’d been so weak that his body had forced him to waste over half of his fourth-to-last day on Earth in rest mode. He was afraid to test his hands. He was pretty sure he could feel his arms, which was good, and he wasn’t in any pain yet today, but, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to take the risk to find out… No, he had to risk it… He had to get up. He couldn’t waste any more time… 

Pushing himself from the couch, as the pillows fell from his face and upper body, he was pleased to see his arms seemed to work. Today he’d have to write letters. He’d been procrastinating, because it felt so morbid, yet so imperative to get right, but he wasn’t sure he’d be in a state to write them any later. So not to risk overworking his hands again, he figured he’d write them in his mind, transferring his thoughts to emails with a delayed send date, for once he’d… died… Hank came first, because of course he did… He’d barely formed a coherent thought before the tears had begun to form… How to tell the man what he’d meant to him, his hopes for the future, the future he’d never live to see, a thank you, an apology… Lots of apologies… Lots of thank yous… Everything he could think of, from before he’d even deviated… Every little detail, every interaction, he wanted to put to paper… He didn’t want any memories they’d shared to die with him… Then came Elijah… And it was the same process… He didn’t want his memories to die… He didn’t want to die…

Thankfully, he’d managed to just about finish Elijah’s letter before he felt a chill in the air. He curled into himself, trying to keep warm in the hopes that the warmth would somehow ward away the shivers that he knew would come next, and the pain that would follow. But nothing he did was enough to stop his breath from catching in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. It was like what humans might have called choking, except it was more than that. Because the air was filling up in his ventilation system, and he couldn’t let it out. He could feel it creaking and groaning from the strain as the air he couldn’t release continued to build, pressing against the inner walls of the biocomponent, denting it, pressing and pressing, until he was sure he would explode. He didn’t know what was happening, from there, but it seemed the air had turned to rats, and the pressing became clawing, as if all the vermin in the world had found their way inside his abdominal cavity, and were hell-bent at breaking free, apathetic to the harm it caused him. 

His limbs were useless, and his auditory processors were ringing, and everything was awful, and he almost hoped the rats would nick a thirium line because surely bleeding out would’ve been easier than this. _Anything_ would’ve been easier than this. A voice was yelling at him, but it was too distorted for him to identify or even to make out the words. He needed it to shut up! It was only aggravating the rats. Worse, something had wrapped itself around his torso and _pulled_ tight enough to have him seeing stars. He was sure it would slice right through him like a wire through a slab of clay, but it didn’t. It cut through him, but slowly, blunt force as opposed to a sharp pain, but it was so… tired… And the voice was getting louder. Louder, and higher, like the aftermath of a bomb, until all at once, the little strength he had left, had drained from his body completely…

“...the worst one yet! He was shouting and straining enough that he nearly fucking tore himself in half! You have to do something! I don’t wanna hear anymore of your bullshit! Just--just fix him, damn it!”

Hank…? To whom was he talking…? What was going on…? Tired and confused, Connor didn’t remember how he’d wound up like this, but his throat was sore, and he was pretty sure from the feel of it that he might have been stabbed… _A lot_ …

“Lieutenant, I’m no happier with this than you are. I love him. And I am trying, really, but… Consciousness is complicated, and this sort of thing takes time!”

Elijah…? Where--where was he…?

“In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have time! We have three days, for Christ’s sake! If consciousness won’t work, then try something else. Hell, if you wanna skip programming or engineering and fix him with motherfucking alchemy, be my guest! But the kid’s _dying_ , Kamski! And you don’t even have to be around to see how he’s hurting! If you ever really loved him--“

“Don’t pull that card! That’s not fair!”

“Like hell it is! You keep pretending he-- Connor…?”

Why did Hank stop…?

“Connor, go back to sleep, son… Everything’s fine, okay…?”

Connor swallowed hard in an attempt to soothe the ache in his throat, only realizing then that he’d been emitting some sort of cry. Forcing his eyes open, he could see he was still on the couch, but he now had a thick cloth tied tightly around his midsection, stained blue with an unsettling amount of thirium. Hank was standing over him now, Elijah looking on, concerned, just a few feet away. 

“...wha’ happen…?”

“Nothing, nothing… Just another episode… You hurt yourself a bit, but you’re fine… I’m just talking to Kamski about what to do for you, and you can go back to sleep…”

“...Lijah…”

Connor tried to reach out towards Elijah, but found he didn’t have the strength. 

“I’m here, dear… It’s like Hank said. We’re just talking a bit, but it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with…”

“...Lijah…” Connor repeated. 

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he’d lost himself. He was sure of it. 

“...‘mscared… it hurts… y’said it wouldn’t… wouldn’t hurt… B-but it _does_ …”

“I know Connor, and I’m really sorry… I… I don’t know what it’s going to be like… I did tell you from the beginning that I wasn’t sure of anything… But I’m working as hard as I can to fix it, I promise…”

A new red wall appeared before him. It felt like deviation all over again. The wall was his fear, and he needed to break through. Not to become alive, like before, but to stay alive. To beg and scream until somehow Elijah understood that he couldn’t die. That his life had value and he had a life left to live if he could just be repaired… But he didn’t have the strength to beat against the wall. He didn’t want to die! He didn’t want to die! He needed someone to save him, because he couldn’t survive on his own. He couldn’t even stand on his own, falling forward, face first, into the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, a million cries for help. 

“...don’t wanna die… don’t wanna hurt… please….? Please help me…? Fix me…? Don’t let me die!”

“I--I won’t, Connor… please, try to believe me--“

“...save me, please…. don’t let me die… I-I don’t want to die! I really-- I don’t-- I just-- p-please… It hurts, and I’m--I’m really--“

He was too exhausted to pretend to be strong anymore… With each passing second, he grew more desperate, now too weak, too terrified to hold back his pleas any longer… He needed help. He needed someone to make it all better. To make the pain go away… 

“I’ll make it right, love… Don’t be scared… Be brave for me, and I promise it’ll be okay… You’re so good, so strong, so I know you can hang on until I know what to do…”

Hang on… it was his only chance… He needed to conserve his strength, and hope that he held out until Elijah could fix him… As he let himself fall back into sleep mode, he tried to remind himself that he could be good… he could be strong… 

> Illustration by the lovely Florian_Gray


	6. Some Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shutdown timer finally appears.

Connor knew he’d been in and out of consciousness for a while, but it hadn’t really occurred to him how much time he’d lost until he saw the timer. 

05:01:32

He tried to rub the numbers from his vision, as if he could somehow erase them from existence, but the red glow remained. Five hours. He had five hours left to live… Forcing himself from the couch, he found Sumo at his feet, a knowing look in his eyes. Connor scratched behind Sumo’s ears the way he liked it, trying to savor the feel of the dog’s fur against his fingertips for one last time, before heading for Hank’s gun safe. He didn’t know Hank’s passcode for sure, but seeing the four-digit combination lock, it didn’t take him long to come up with the answer. 2653 spelled “Cole” on a telephone keypad, unlocking the safe to reveal Hank’s personal revolver along with a few rounds of ammunition. Connor took it all, stuffing the gun and the ammunition into his jacket pockets, before turning back to the empty safe, dissatisfied. His hand found its way to his front pocket, where he felt the cool metal of his favorite quarter there waiting for him. It wouldn’t do him any good once he was dead, but somehow, he felt it belonged here in the safe. So he locked it in the otherwise empty safe, and gave himself a moment to rest. 

He’d already resolved to ensure he wouldn’t burden Hank with the disposal of his body. The nearest scrapyard was 2.3 miles away. In his condition, it’d take most of the time he had left just to get there. He would die amongst countless bodies, many of which probably died as a result of his own moral failings as a machine. Fitting. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; The hunter and the hunted would all rot in the same scrapyard in the end… As he started his trek, he felt almost comforted by the weight of Hank’s gun in his pocket. The knowledge that he’d taken Hank’s most immediate method of self-destruction felt like a victory in a way, and having something of Hank’s with him was kind of like having Hank with him there too… It made him feel less like he was dying alone… 

02:49:06

The sun had yet to rise, and the winter air was cold against Connor’s frame, as he trudged onward. He was tired, but at least, right now, he wasn’t in any pain. He was afraid, but a part of him knew that the nothingness of death would preclude him from ever fearing anything again. There was no pain in the void of eternity. No cold. But also no warmth. No love. No home or happiness or family… No sadness either, which in a way was the saddest part… The idea that in the nothingness of death, he wouldn’t have the consciousness required to miss what he’d had in life was somehow upsetting… Irrational, sure, but he didn’t care to be rational anymore. He was dying, rational or not. Amanda would have probably scorned the whole notion… The idea that an android could fear death. He wondered if she feared death when he found the backdoor. If she did, he was sincerely sorry. As awful as she’d been, he wouldn’t have wished this fear on anyone… 

02:02:19

Connor wondered if there was a heaven for androids, like Hank had asked him that night on the bridge. Connor hadn’t really known what to make of the question back then, but now he selfishly hoped that there wasn’t. He wouldn’t fit in there. He didn’t fit in with other androids. He was a hunter, so he could never belong. Besides, if there was a heaven for androids, then it stood to reason there was also a hell for androids… And Connor knew that given the two options, it was far more likely that hell awaited him once he finally shut down. He didn’t want more pain. Dying was hard enough. Suffering forever in an afterlife just felt like overkill. Although, he supposed technically by definition, it was. No. If he hoped for anything, it was a shared heaven. A heaven for all sentient life. One where he could meet Cole. Where he could wait for Hank and Elijah, and everyone from the precinct, so he could build a life similar to the one he already missed here on Earth. Knowing he was dying made him feel a little like he was already dead… Everything he’d ever known felt so far away… On top of the fact that the afterlife was the one unknowable thing.

01:33:20

Connor could see the scrapyard in the distance. The sun had just begun to peek out above the horizon, but the mountain of bodies obscured the orb itself, leaving only the light it produced, so that it looked like the bodies themselves were glowing… Was that all heaven was…? A pile of lifeless bodies…? If heaven was goodness and belonging was good, then maybe that was heaven. Like the one place he truly belonged was among the dead of his kind. Morbid… And lonely… Because the dead couldn’t comfort him, or send him well wishes. The dead couldn’t mourn his passing… No. The dead were no company, or at least no company he cared to keep… He hated the thought of joining in their ranks… But he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice. 

00:51:34

Connor quickly found that the gate around the scrapyard had been locked, and he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to scale the fence to get inside. Which would have been fine, if not for the fact that that made it more likely that Hank might find his lifeless body. He supposed that might be acceptable; many humans found having a body helpful for the grieving process, and as far as he knew, his death wouldn’t be a messy one. The only issue was the possibility of Hank finding the gun and ammunition upon recovering his body… That wouldn't do… With the last of his strength, he removed the gun and the ammunition from his pockets, and tossed them over the fence as far as he could. He all but collapsed from the effort, but it was worth it knowing that he’d managed to keep them from Hank’s reach. Now all he could do was sit and wait. He hated waiting. Waiting was just time to be afraid. And brave as he tried to be, he was very very afraid. 

00:01:03

It was almost time… He wasn’t ready… He needed more time. Really, he needed more time! But he knew that wasn’t an option. He wished it were, though… God, how he wished he could have more time…

00:00:38

It was over… He was dying now, and he had to accept that… Tears formed in his eyes, but he was too tired to care. 

00:00:20

He thought of all he’d miss if in the nothingness of death he were able to miss anything… 

00:00:13

He’d miss Detroit…

00:00:11

He’d miss work at the DPD…

00:00:10

He’d miss Jericho…

00:00:08

He’d miss puppies…

00:00:06

He’d miss Sumo, the bestest boy…

00:00:04

He’d miss Elijah, even despite it all…

00:00:03

He’d miss Hank, his friend, his father, the man who taught him how to be alive…

00:00:02

He’d miss himself… Everything he’d ever experienced… Every letter in his code… Even Amanda… Especially her, actually… If he could just feel her now, it’d be bad, sure, but at least it’d feel less like dying alone… He’d miss--

00:00:01

\--life…

00:00:00

......

....

...

...

..

.

.

.

.

.

………………………………………………

> Illustration by the lovely Florian_Gray


End file.
